


Finding Harbour in the Storm

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Series: Night Hymns [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bottom Sherlock, Comfort, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Morning Sex, Top John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 18:41:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a dark and stormy night John and Sherlock both find what they didn't know they were searching for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Harbour in the Storm

John Watson woke as thunder crashed outside his window. A few seconds later it was chased by lightning, then more thunder. It echoed like distant artillery off the mountains. He sat up, wrapping his arms around his knees as he breathed in the humid, rain-soaked air of his room

Looking towards the clock, John saw the power was out. Thunder crashed again, lightning merging with muzzle flash in his mind’s eye. A cold chill spiking down his back, he threw the covers back and grabbed his robe. Quietly he stole down the steps as lightning lit the flat again. Turning, he saw Sherlocks door was ajar, the flicker of a candle drawing him to the door.

Stealing down the hall, John pushed the door open cautiously. On his bed, Sherlock lay curled up on his side, head propped on his hand as he read a book near the flickering candle. He looked up and saw John. They stared at each other, then Sherlock started to reach to put out the candle. John hurried forward and caught his hand, leaning down to kiss him.

"No," said John as he pulled back and looked into Sherlock’s face, still holding the man’s wrist. "I want to see you."

Sherlock look up at John with wide eyes. Gently, John brushed the hair from his eyes, slipping into the bed without breaking eye contact. "Why are you afraid?"

Sherlock hesitated, eyes darting without moving his head. John kissed him again, gentle. "Please, Sherlock. I need to know.”

Turning his face away, Sherlock stared at the candle and tugged his wrist free. "The night you got drunk, you said something."

John’s heart froze. He leaned back to give Sherlock space. "What did I say?"

Thunder rolled again before Sherlock spoke. "Clearly you were jealous. You said I could have had any girl there."

John laughed without thinking as relief flooded him. "Oh you idiot," he turned Sherlock’s face and kissed him again.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "John?"

Touching Sherlock’s stubbled chin, John looked into his eyes again. "I wasn't jealous of you."

Sherlock blinked. "You were jealous of the girls." He sounded incredulous.

"Is that really so hard to believe?" John shook his head, smiling softly.

Leaning in, Sherlock caught John’s face in both his hands and kissed him with surprising passion. John cupped his cheek with one hand in return, emotions charging through his heart and twisting his gut.

Sherlock finally drew back, watching John again. The soft candlelight painted his eyes in dark shades of blue and green as he searched John’s eyes. Licking his lips, John slipped off his robe. Sherlock’s eyes moved to the large scar on his shoulder. He reached out a hand, pausing just above the puckered skin.

"It's fine," assured John. Sherlock touched the scar, exploring it with his fingers. John knew Sherlock had seen him undressed before; this was different. He shifted and brought the old wound more into the light. "It doesn't hurt."

"No, clearly most of the nerves are either severed or healed." Sherlock’s hand moved along John’s chest and arms, exploring other faded scars. Sherlock had scars too, John knew, but in this primal flickering light Sherlock's skin was pale, milky white and innocent. John leaned forward and planted a kiss on his breastbone, just above his heart.

Lying back on the bed, Sherlock watched him, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. He'd been reading naked as the night was warm. John picked up the book, noticing it was in German, and set it on the end table. He lifted the sheet, exposing Sherlock's half-hard member. Leaning down, he gave the cock a soft kiss, making it twitch. With another smile he pushed down his own pants and crawled over Sherlock.

As John reached Sherlock’s mouth he leaned down to suck Sherlock's lip free from his teeth. Balancing himself, he reached down to take them both in his other hand. Sherlock gave a low groan, arching against the pressure. Bending down, John licked a broad stripe from Sherlock’s clavicle, up his neck and dragging through the stubble on his cheek. Stroking their erections together, John explored Sherlock’s throat with tongue and lips, finally pausing to admire the way it glistened wetly in the candlelight. Sherlock’s Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. Looking to his eyes, John could see he was being watched with lust, desire and something else.

John released their erections and placed his other hand by Sherlock’s head. He kissed Sherlock’s forehead while fumbling blindly for the drawer. Sherlock’s breath sped up in anticipation. Sitting back on his knees, John held the bottle loosely in his hand. "How do you want this?"

"I want you." Sherlock drew his knees up and spread his legs, watching Johns face. He thrust minutely at the air.

John gave another kiss as he pressed slicked fingers into Sherlock, drawing a low moan that rumbled like the thunder, resonating to his bones.

He broke the kiss to look down at Sherlock. "Do you know you're beautiful?"

Sherlock smiled lightly. "One could say the same thing about yourself."

John kissed his nose. "I may be many things, but that is not one of them."

Sherlock opened his mouth to protest or explain. John kissed him instead, driving his tongue into his mouth. He held Sherlock's head with one hand, using the other to adjust Sherlock's hips before entering him. Sherlock cried out against his mouth, arching back before moving to meet his thrusts.

John broke the kiss to rest his head on Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, pressing him tight against his sweat slicked chest. John hummed contentedly, slowing his thrusts, feeling Sherlock’s cock pressing against his stomach

The storm had moved off, thunder growing distant. John couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so at peace, moving slowly against Sherlock in the flickering light. Sherlock kissed the top of Johns head and held him a little tighter.

John grew soft and slipped out, but that was okay. Neither of them moved as they fell asleep in one another's arms.

**

John woke in Sherlock's bed, lying on his stomach, but tucked against Sherlock's side, head pillowed on Sherlock’s arm. His own arm was thrown possessively across Sherlock's chest. He turned his head and lifted himself enough to kiss Sherlock awake.

Sherlock opened his eyes slowly. The rain-washed morning light softened his features and highlighted the dark curls spread across the white pillow. Sherlock blinked - his eyes looked more green this morning - and focused on John, uncertain. John cupped his lightly stubbled cheek and kissed him tenderly, earning a sigh.

Moving on top of Sherlock, John’s morning wood pressing against Sherlock's hip. "Good morning," he said softly.

"Indeed," rumbled Sherlock, cupping Johns face with one hand as he kissed him back, groping on the bed for the bottle of lube with the other. Finding it, he pressed it into John’s hand.

John prepared Sherlock quickly as he rocked against his him. Knowing what Sherlock liked, he pinned the man’s wrists with one hand as he entered him. Sherlock groaned and tossed his head. “Please....John...more..."

Thrusting hard, John stroked Sherlock with his free hand, watching him writhe helplessly beneath him. Eyes screwed tightly shut, Sherlock's mouth was open, small cries of pleasure tumbling out. John shifted him up so he could kiss those lips.

With John’s weight on his cock, Sherlock came in moments, John falling over the edge as Sherlock tightened around him, groaning Sherlock’s name as he came.

John panted as he released Sherlock's wrists, collapsing onto Sherlock’s sticky chest. Sherlock chuckled and rolled John onto his back. "You are useless post-orgasm."

"Mmmf," answered John, throwing one arm against his eyes as the sun had risen a little higher. He heard running water in the bathroom. A moment later Sherlock returned with a warm washcloth to clean him up. John moved his arm and watched him. "Thank you."

Sherlock reached for his dressing gown. "Come John, I'll put the kettle on. Maybe today will bring a nice murder."

John watched him go. Smiling a little he pulled on his own robe and headed for the shower. 

**Author's Note:**

> This finishes Night Hymns. It's really been great for me to write, and I want to thank all of you for reading. Don't have anything planned yet for the next thing, so feel free to drop me a comment or an ask over on tumblr. Or just say hello. Kudos are fantastic, comments are even better!
> 
> You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


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